For The Best
by Scruff the Rat
Summary: "It takes you a while to realize there's something wrong with your family." Rated for language and violence. Trigger warnings for child abuse and ableism.
1. Cherished

Our little princess.

That's what everyone calls you. Daddy. Mama (sometimes). Even Onii-chan.

It never bothers you. Heck, if anything, you enjoy the attention that title brings, mostly because it's true. At five years old, you're the baby of the family, the one that everybody—your family, the neighbors, even the local police officer—fawns over and protects.

That seems pretty princess-y if they ask you.

Yeah, you don't always get what you want because your family is always tight on cash, which means your parents don't have much time for you because they need to work, but _that's okay_ , Mama tells you, _because that doesn't mean we don't love you_.

And you believe her, just like you believe the way Daddy tucks you in and kisses your forehead goodnight and how Angus lets you sneak into his room when you get scared so you can lay under the covers together, discerning constellations until you both fall asleep.

You also believe your parents when you ask them if they love Angus the same way and they say yes. And Angus, who is a good big brother to you, deserves that. Because that's what Daddies and Mamas are supposed to do anyway: love all their kids.

Yours just seem to show how they feel differently with him: how curt Mama sometimes gets with Angus or doesn't smile as much at him, how Daddy sometimes shoves him or raises his voice a bit whenever Angus makes one little mistake.

That's just them being tough on him. A lot of parents do that, right?

Right?


	2. Suspect

Only after Kaito leaves do things get bad.

Your parents have taken to shouting lately. Over bills, over work, over family (you and—more often—Angus are the center of most of those arguments). Almost always, you hear your father half-lamenting, half-cursing that such-and-such 'would have never happened with Kaito.'

You don't remember much about your other onii-san _._ Just bits and pieces depicting a giant with booming laughter and a smile not unlike Daddy's. From what everyone else says, he's off fighting 'bad guys' in some far off land. You often picture him as a brave warrior—gallant like a knight, honor-bound like a samurai—off to vanquish oni and dragons and other monsters, saving innocent lives and princesses like you.

Yet when you tell Angus all of this, show him all the drawings you made of this lovely fantasy, he smiles like he's trying to brave a booster shot. And when you ask him what's wrong, he says it's nothing.

You say you believe him even though you don't.

Just like when Daddy starts writing off Angus's sudden limping around the house as 'an accident' or when Mommy starts writing off the strange shuffling and scratching at night as 'rats'.

You don't mean what you say because Angus is hardly in his room when you go to him anymore, and when he is, he's jumpy, defensive...scared, especially when you touch him from behind to get his attention. He still hugs you like he should yet each time he does, you feel him shake as though he's in pain.

At six years old, you start to question who the 'accident' and 'rats' are. You fear pursuing the truth.

Someone's been hurting Angie and no one's telling you who or why.

And as you watch Daddy race off to the hospital a week later, Angus in the backseat with a broken right arm in a shoddy sling, a nagging worm of worry in your head asks if you should be scared for your brother (and yourself).

You hope not as Mama pulls you back inside.


	3. Lies

Bullshit, you hear just after you turn seven.

You're still not sure why that word exists, but you've noticed that people often use it whenever someone tells a lie, particularly a big fat one. Particularly, particularly when the people being lied to are very, _very_ angry.

Like Angus after you tell him—because you need to know, you _have_ to know if him getting hurt was an accident—what Mama told you after the second time this year Angus had to go to the hospital; that _your brother and father had a little argument_ , that _Angus may have said something that made your father overreact._

Judging by the way Angus utters the word without hesitation, Mama's explanation probably counts as a pretty big fat lie; and judging by the scowl he tries to hide from you and how hard his hands grip the blanket, it's obvious that he is _beyond_ angry.

You don't like how different that anger makes him look. Angus has always been quiet and calm, safe. Not this.

And it scares you. All this pain swirling like a hurricane while you stand in the eye unharmed yet for how long? You don't wanna know _please, please may you never know,_ all this stress of not knowing is becoming too much and you consider retreating to your room to hide away so the storm can pass over without touching you.

...Until you notice the tremors in your brother's back, catch how hitched and erratic his breathing's become. You feel nothing short of awful because if _you're_ frightened of everything happening then imagine how Angus must feel. Even without knowing the exact details, you can tell he's the one taking the blows.

Not enough bravery's in you to ask him the truth.

Maybe he feels the same; he simply asks you to steer clear of Daddy and Mama for a while because they _seem more upset than usual._ He gently and frightfully asks you to not question him about what happened and _whatever you do, do NOT ask Mom and Dad. It's for the best._

Something in your gut tells you no, no you should NOT let this matter go. Your Onii-chan has been hurt under this roof more than once now and your parents keep dancing around you instead of telling the truth.

That's not what Daddies and Mamas are supposed do. They're supposed to love their children no matter what, to protect them, not this.

You keep quiet and nod instead, like the good little princess you are.

A coward is more how you feel—and your fears are screaming that Angus will regret you both keeping silent. Very, very soon.


	4. Discovery

Your fears prove right. You just had no idea _how_ right.

It makes no sense. Is this some sort of punishment? Punishments are for when you do wrong. So what did _Angus_ do wrong? What did Onii-chan, polite and quiet and gentle, do wrong to warrant being locked in the pantry?

Because that's where you find him one morning in your search for cereal, huddled on the floor, cramped and starved thin—not bone thin like those war survivors you've seen in history class but still thinner than he should be. And there's dried blood _all over_ him—arms, face, clothes...

And his eyes...his _eyes_...bloodshot to match his beaten face...

The spoon and the key you used to open the lock because you had no idea someone was in there, you swear, drop at your feet, and only your parents' screaming wakes you up.

Mama hits you for the first time in your life; Daddy isn't happy she does.

As the king and empress wage civil war, all you can do is retreat into the dungeon, the only place that feels safe in this crumbling empire, and seek haven in your brother's battered arms, hoping for neither of you to get caught in the crossfire any more than you already have.

It's a vain hope but you cling to it, just like with Onii-chan's stained dress-shirt.

You feel one arm press against you as Angus angles the door so it shields you from the oncoming glass. If only it could ward away everything else, too.

Two paws cover your ears.


	5. Aftermath

Life isn't the same after you and Angus crawl out amidst shards and upturned chairs bathed in unfeeling sunlight, the abandoned spoon and key silent witnesses amidst a sea of glass, your mother's choked sobs in the distance.

The whole world seems to pass in a daze, alive but not really, everything you feel akin to a bad dream. Not real, not real, not real. The only thing that keeps you here is the waning warmth of your older sibling's hand around yours.

You squeeze it as a decision is made: Angus needs to go to the hospital—even if that means you two have to walk there.

"No" he says the moment you tell him just that. Hospitals mean doctors and doctors mean revealing what caused the wounds, he explains. And doctors, for better or worse, call the family whenever kids get hurt. Daddy and Mama would kill you both for telling the truth.

You still try because it's not right, it's not right, to just let him stay hurt like this, so you pull. And pull and pull again. He doesn't budge an inch. You keep trying anyway because you refuse to resign, you refuse-you-refuse, you-refuse...until eventually your arms give out against his strength and you collapse against him.

The cracks in your heart feel so heavy.

And Angus, like the good Onii-chan he is, hugs you and suggests finding an ice pack for you (your head still throbs from where Mama struck you) and bandage wraps for himself since _its only blood and no broken bones this time_.

This time. This time. This time.

Why must there be a next time?

Today is Saturday, so the two of you have time to treat the wounds and take in the events of this hellish morning. Eventually (and with hesitation) you ask how long.

 _Since Kaito left,_ he says.

But why?

 _They're unhappy with me._

Because of what?

 _...I guess I'm just not their favorite._

But you do so much good.

 _Not good enough for them._

So what _is_ enough?

 _Anyone who's not me._

You've never felt so confused in your life. Or sick for that matter.

Because none of this, any of this, makes sense but you still hate it.

Hurts as it does, you do as Angus says and keep a distance from your parents.

Daddy and Mama avoid each other after that Saturday, too. A bittersweet relief. The yelling is at an all-time low and Angus has time to heal from the wounds; you also have no idea when, where, and how the next explosion will take place. It feels like sitting in a minefield, waiting for the land beneath your feet to go off any day now.

What's worse is the way your parents have started acting towards _you_ now.

Daddy has taken the way he always treated you to the extreme—calling you 'princess' almost constantly, smiling more than necessary, and buying you things you don't need. The things that felt nice before make you feel smothered.

Mama, on the other hand, seems to have lost all patience with you; she hasn't hit you again but nowadays you can't have a single conversation with her without a full-out critique on your clothes, your friends, your posture, everything. Even the little gestures you often do.

Needless to say, it's all maddening. Angus feels like the only pillar of sanity you have left.

Eventually your parents apologize—to each other, to you, not to Angus—but by then you've long lost the stomach to fake-believe anymore.

You still nod.


	6. Fairytales

You don't know what you are anymore, but it's certainly no princess.

In the stories Angus always tells you—back then to feed your imagination, nowadays to take your mind off of reality—princesses live beautiful yet dangerous lives, raised prim and proper while others protect them and their families from the world.

Life doesn't feel so beautiful to you anymore, though it certainly feels dangerous.

Calling your upbringing prim and proper has been a stretch ever since you'd been born into this family, you realize at age eight, when you start to hate how people bug you about the stuff you never thought to notice or see as wrong.

Like spinning in Daddy's old office chair when nervous. Repeating someone's thanks to show you're welcome. Rubbing your fingers together when upset. Clapping your hands when you want to go somewhere else. Even the fact that fantasy stuff captivates you more than the things Daddy and Mama insist should.

They either just happen or are to help get your point across. You never mean to upset Daddy and Mama by doing any of these things.

That doesn't mean you enjoy the way Mama grabs your arms or squeezes your hand or forces you to look at the person you're talking to whenever you're doing something 'off'. Or how she keeps telling you to 'grow out of it' when you keep doing all this at age ten.

By then, you don't have it in you to obey Mama anymore. After all, why listen to someone who thinks locking people in pantries makes them behave better?

You still obey Daddy, though, only because you've seen the welts and cuts and broken bones left behind on Angus. There are scarier things than demons and dragons.

The only silver lining is that you're not alone in this nightmare. All you have in common with those made-up princesses is that you have a protector, someone willing to take the blows in your stead, to _die_ for you.

You love and hate that most of all.

Onii-chan's a good brother and deserves better.


	7. Surviving

At age eleven, you know better.

You know that your family, this kingdom, is a total and utter mess, a mess you discover doesn't stop at the walls of your house.

Angus, two years older, stopped believing in miracles at your age. What was the point, he asks you one stormy evening when the lights are out and you're praying in his beaten arms to wish them back on, in putting stock in things you can't prove with facts?

You're starting to see what he means. Without the veil of ignorance to keep everything nice and shiny, you finally start seeing Possum Springs for the helpless speck it is, desolate and fading, still alive but just barely and ready to go out at any moment. All that time you fancied yourself royalty in a fairytale land when you were just another spot of dust collecting on the ruins of a bygone world hardly worth history's time.

Sad realities like that call for a lifeline and you find one in the imaginary people and grotesque creatures that seep from your pencil to grace the snow-white fields of infinity. Your 'special interest', the YouTube lady like you said—Angus introduced you to her channel last year—something that speaks to you in a way that other stuff doesn't.

It's more like a panacea, a mental sanctuary, but you make it work. Anything to dull the heartache.

 _You've got chops as an artist_ , your art teacher comments one day. _Keep that up and you could go places._

To her, it's just another compliment to an aspiring drawer; to you, it's the shore your lifeline brings into view.

Becoming an artist just might be your way out—it feels like the only way out after that disheartening talk with Angus on how reporting their parents to the police could very well result in them becoming foster kids, let alone separated—because whatever ending awaits you, Possum Springs _won't_ be its setting.

You intend to make sure of that.

Angus feels the same way, you find out after one particularly nasty night of Mother and Father taking their rage out on him. He gladly supports your ambition and even makes you swear to never give up on it. He won't be with you forever, he says, not because he'll change the way Father and Mother did or tire of you but because he wants freedom, too: from the beatings, from the starvation, from the absolute shit-hole known as Possum Springs.

You understand, mostly because you see now: _Angus_ had been the princess wishing for an out while you had been the heir to a throne of nothing. That's a bitter pill to swallow but it's one that helps because now you and he know what's necessary to break away from this dungeon.

All you two need is time.

Doesn't feel like you have much of that lately, much less after Father leaves the month following your twelfth birthday.

You're the first to know only because he tries to convince you to come with him when it's just you and him in the dingy living room. When you ask (demand) why, he gives a helpless shrug. "Princess, I just don't think it's so good to be around your momma and brother anymore. Things have gotten... ugly between the three of us."

Sometimes you wish you weren't so nice. Otherwise, you would have rolled your eyes at the euphemism, let alone his attempts at an apology. You're not too nice, though, to be honest.

"I'm not leaving Angus alone with Mother, Father."

The pained look on his face at being called that stings at your heart, but you stay firm. You have to. Whatever you expect him to do next, it isn't to go stoic, nod calmly, take in hand the suitcase he's had by his side this whole conversation, hug you goodbye (you return it without meaning it—he stopped being your Daddy the moment he started hurting Angus) and simply walk out the door.

No more attempts. No forcing you to go with him. Even after everything, Father refuses to hurt his little princess.

He never comes back for you.

On the bright side, his absence means a dramatic drop in Angus' physical injuries. Not so bright side, without Father to keep her in check, Mother's not only upped the ante on your brother but you as well.

She keeps trying to force you into those stupid 'classes' where people never stop grabbing you (the only reason she doesn't succeed anymore is that the grabby people find you too 'confrontational'—those self-defense tips from Angus _seriously_ helped out); gotten even nastier when your friends wait for you outside or drop you off; and what's worse she's gone so far as to even threaten shutting _you_ in the pantry for the littlest mistakes, like not using your honorifics right.

Angus puts his foot down more often nowadays, too, even if only in your defense. You wish he'd done that sooner, but at least that's another point you can chalk up for positive thinking. The two of you have reasons to fight back, and with Mother outnumbered two-to-one, you're not as powerless as before.

Except you still are.


	8. Kitsune

**Note: trigger warning for ableist language.**

* * *

Fun fact: autism does not equal super senses.

Well, at least not senses like, say, Superman or Black Panther. As awesome as it might have been to hear or smell stuff from miles away (which would have included farts – just saying), for you it's more like being hyperaware of the world around yourself.

Like, for example, how bright lights or loud sounds can wear you down faster than they would someone else because you 'experience' them too strongly.

Yeah, not fun.

But if there _was_ a benefit to all this oversensitivity, it made you learn how to be more observant of your surroundings – which could explain how you notice the sound of footsteps from behind during your wait for Angus outside the school entrance after classes end.

If there was one thing you had to give your mother credit for, it was that she did her best to keep your 'anti-autism' classes a secret, even if only to save face. Small towns like Possum Springs have a way of spreading news fast, and Mother did _not_ trust the people from those horrid sessions to keep their mouths shut.

Unfortunately, that plan could only work for so long before folks caught on – because somehow, someway they _did_ catch on and they did _not_ let you forget.

Most folks keep their distance from you nowadays, as if you're something contagious. It hurts (mostly because you don't like hiding yourself), but you're learning to live with it. Besides, you still have Angus and even a few teachers to keep folks off your back, and while you can't walk through town anymore without feeling like everyone's looking at you, at least they leave you alone.

Then there are times like these.

"Hey, retard! Got another class comin' up?"

 _Breathe in, breathe out. Don't look their way._

"Ya think she doesn't understand you?"

Don't look their way. Just go inside and wait for Angus there.

"Hey, dumbass, did I speak too fast? I said, _you-got-a-no-ther-class-co-ming-uuuup_?"

 _Do not punch. Do not punch. Do...not...punch. Just...walk away. Walk away. You can look for Angus yourself_.

And it happens: someone grabs your wrist.

Someone grabs your wrist and you're not here anymore but there, back with the hands that refuse to go away, the sneering voices demanding you stop being you.

Everything jolts through you: shock, fear, panic, anger...but one thought floats above it all.

 _Never again._

Without thinking, your limbs move on their own accord.

 _Solar plexus._

"UGH!"

 _Instep._

"OW!"

 _Nose._

"MM-PHMMM!"

 _Groin._

The boy who grabbed you doubles over in pain, and you turn to flee...that is, until one of his friends tries to grab you. On pure adrenaline, you grab his arm and execute a _hane goshi_ that leaves him gasping on the sidewalk in pain.

You don't take the time to relish your payback. You run, as fast and hard as you can.

How long running away takes escapes you. That doesn't matter. All that does matter is getting away. Far, far away.

What feels like forever eventually ends with you behind the Food Donkey, the adrenaline rush leaving you exhausted. Back against the wall, your body slides to the floor as you cradle your head, trying hard not to cry.

You end up crying.

Hopefully Angus finds you soon.

 _Please_ Angus come soon...

"Hey, kid," a raspy voice suddenly speaks to you.

Your whole body tenses. _That_ does not sound like Angus.

Braced and ready to run, you cautiously look up to discover a canary-furred fox slightly older than you and dressed like a biker crouched before you, arms crossed over his knees and wide navy-blue eyes scrunched in concern.

"You gonna be OK?" he asks in a soft tone (you have a strong hunch they're a he).

For some reason you numbly shake your head at this stranger and stay quiet instead of telling him to go away. You place your face back into your arms, still not feeling put together enough to talk, fingers rubbing together self-consciously. You barely notice the sound of shuffling beside you.

Silence passes by for a while.

"Do ya do that with every asshole you meet?" the fox suddenly asks in a slightly rushed yet somehow still casual tone, "Cuz that was pretty badass."

You start a bit in surprise and slowly bring your reddened eyes to meet the fox's curious ones. The stranger has his back to the wall as he sits beside you, one hand in his jeans' pockets and tail wagging by his black boots. There's also, much to your faint worry, a knife being twirled between the fingers of his other hand.

Thankfully, your mind's had time to piece itself back together enough to think up a coherent response.

Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head again. "Only when people won't leave me alone." The fox looks bummed out and even saddened by your answer for some reason, so you faintly scramble to amend it.

"M-my brother doesn't like when I get into fights."

Things go quiet after that – until suddenly, the fox's eyes light up like a bonfire! "Say, your bro wouldn't happen ta be Angus, would he?"

Wait. Your attention on the other mammal narrows in. Though your voice is still hoarse from crying, you manage to ask, "How do you know Angus?"

Without warning, the fox gets right up in your face, forcing you to pull your head back in confusion and some fright.

" _Whaaaaaaaat?_ Angus hasn't _told_ you about me?!"

You hastily shake your head no. You've been doing that a lot in this conversation.

The fox reels back with both hands on his chest, face aghast and pleading. "What about _Mae_?! Or _Casey_?!"

Okay, now you're just starting to feel bad for disappointing this guy – and a little hurt, too. Did Angus know all these people? If so, why hadn't he told you yet?

Wait...

"Did you say Mae? As in Mae Borowski?"

And just like that, the guy's back to being super peppy. "Oh my Gawd, YES! Angus _did_ tell you about us!"

You shake your head once more. "I think I have her in my art class. I've never talked to her, though. She's usually the one making really huge messes with the arts and crafts."

The fox snorts, slapping his knee with the hand holding the knife, impressively not getting himself cut in the process. "Oh-ho dude! You _musta_ seen her paint bomb then! She told me and Casey all about it! It sounded _sooooo_ epic!"

Oh right. That.

Whatever social cues are appropriate for this situation escape you. All you _can_ recognize is that there's a guy you barely know talking to you like a real person, something you sorely need after what happened back at school. Besides, something about this boy's presence was helping you feel more open. Just a little bit.

"I-I liked how she got the glue and paper to hold together," you softly comment, "so she could throw them like actual bombs; that was cool."

"Hell yeah, it was! And did she really juggle 'em, too?!"

"Yeah. She even kept going after some fell on the floor and splatted on her instead."

"Ah, classic Mae!"

"And the way the colors flew all over when they exploded was pretty."

Talking about the mess your classmate did manages to bring a small smile to your face.

"Wanna do some _crimes_?" the fox suddenly asks, "Might cheer ya up!" He made sure to make his voice all singsong at the end, waggling his dark eyebrows mischievously.

A worried frown comes to you. Crimes? Oh jeez.

He catches onto your discomfort easily. "Don't worry! It ain't like we're gonna rob or _kill_ anybody! Just bust up some rusty as shit cars down by the old playground! They're abandoned anyway so nobody's gonna care!"

Except the cops once they notice a bunch of kids messing around in places they don't belong, your mind adds. Angus would not approve for sure.

And yet...something about the way the fox is smiling, sunlight catching on his fur like gold, kind of makes you want to join in.

What would be the best way to respond? A simple yes? Asking to wait for Angus first? The second one sounded more practical (you still wanted to roast your brother for not telling you about this guy – if this guy _did_ know Angus at least), but would the fox be willing to be that patient?

If not...

"Gregg, by the way!"

You blink. "Huh?"

"Gregg! G-R-E-G-G! Exclamation point is optional but totally recommended!"

You blink again, letting this guy's words sink in – until a snort Mother would have reprimanded you for escapes you. Before long, the snort shifts into giggles and you forget why you're here in the first place. The fox seems to be even more impossibly happier now, like a puppy too proud for his own good.

Upon recovering from your mirthful fit, you hug your knees less tightly than before. "Mine's Koharu, Koko for short. Do you _always_ hang around behind food marts?" Part of you wonders if that's a nosy thing to ask but mentally shrug it off.

Gregg shakes his head. "Nah. I was gonna meet up with Mae and Casey when I saw those douchebags pickin' on ya. I was about to march over and wreck 'em a new one when I saw Angus about ta plow through their asses. Then ya went all kickass."

Then that meant Angus _had_ to be here soon. Relief and worry flood you. Oh, he's gonna be smothering you in concern.

Something else suddenly comes to you.

"You came after me, too." You cock your head. "Why?"

Gregg looks at you like that's the stupidest question he's ever heard. "Angus gives a damn about you and is cool, those twerps suck, and you look too sweet to have to put up with people being crappy, so I decided to go after ya. 'Specially since Angus isn't too good at running far."

True, you realize with another pang of remorse. Your brother had to start using an inhaler for his asthma back in elementary school, your parents only agreeing to it to prevent people from questioning them whenever their son doubled over and fainted from lack of oxygen.

Still you blush at being called 'sweet'. That's not quite the word you'd associate with someone who could beat people up the way you did, but you appreciate it anyway.

You look back at Gregg. "Are you and Angus friends?"

For first time since meeting him, Gregg gets all bashful and rubs his left arm. "Uh...kinda. We're in a few classes together so I've talked to him a lot, but I haven't like legit hung out with him yet."

How curious. "Why not?"

Gregg shrugs. "I don't think he _doesn't_ wanna hang with me. Heck, he looks like he wants to ask that half the time...'cept he always gets this look like he just remembered something important, like an appointment or somethin'."

You curl in on yourself upon hearing that, frowning. Maybe that's also why he never told you about Gregg and his friends – so you wouldn't feel guilty.

A fat lot of good that did. Time to make up for that.

Plastering on the biggest smile you've got, you straighten up. "Okay, I'll do crimes with you." It' hard to keep from giggling at how Gregg perks up. "As long as Angus gets to come with."

Could there be such a thing as a maniacal laugh that comes off as endearing? Because Gregg manages exactly that as he shoots up like a crazed cheerleader, howling like a wolf rather than a fox. You cover your ears at the noise, but you can't help feeling the infectious energy this guy keeps radiating.

Just then Angus staggers around the corner, huffing and puffing breathlessly, drawn by the racket. You shoot to your feet immediately and meet him halfway to spare him the misery of moving any further.

Angus takes a moment to regain his breath, one hand set on the wall of the mart and another on his knee, head hanging. When he reaches for his inhaler, you beat him to the punch by snatching it out of his pants pocket and stuffing it into his wheezing mouth. His mouth closes instinctively around the nozzle and you spray in the contents the number of times you've seen him do so.

Before long, he has his breathing back under control and graciously takes the inhaler back from you to pocket it. "A-Arigatou."

You shrug with a 'think nothing of it' smile. "Arigatou."

"I...I saw what happened. Koko, I'm so sorry! I tried to hurry up but the teacher—"

"No, no, it's _my_ fault. I should've waited by your classroom like you said." That way, people wouldn't have been as tempted to come after you.

Your brother shakes his head with a mournful sigh as he finally straightens up and hugs you, something you return easily. "I'm just glad you're safe, Koko."

Once the moment's over, you step back and school an annoyed frown, hands akimbo. "Now then, I think you've got some explaining to do yourself, mister. You could have _said_ something to me about this guy and his friends! I mean, it's not like _I_ don't want you to have more people who care besides—Angus?"

The older bear has started blinking awkwardly at something behind you. You look over your shoulder to discover Gregg staring at you both, mouth agape and eyes sparkling like an anime character that just laid eyes on the love of their life.

"YOU GUYS CAN SPEAK JAPANESE?!" he screeches giddily, hopping up and down. Wow, is this guy excitable about everything?

Angus blushes out of the corner of your eye. "Um, yeah? Koko and I are Japanese on our mother's side."

Gregg squees and twirls/tiptoes in a circle and when he curls down like he's ready to jump, his voice comes out hushed for once. "That is so freaking _cool_! Please hang out with us! Please-please-please-please-please- _pleasssssse_?"

You have to look away at this point: one because of your can't-keep-eye-contact-for-too-long thing and two because you're just about to explode from laughter from watching the funniest guy you've ever met.

Angus clears his throat. "We'd love to, Gregg – really we would – but we—"

"Would be delighted!" you finish with a cheery smile.

"Yes, we'd be delight... _WHAT_?!"

Oh, you have the most shit-eating grin on your face right now and you don't care that Angus is staring at you in shock and confusion and a twinge bit of fear.

Would this venture end in disaster? Maybe.

Would your mother try to kill you and Angus for hanging out with people like Gregg? Most likely but then again what else is new?

All you knew for sure was that you like Gregg and could tell Angus does, too, which is good because your brother needs more friends. He's too awesome to hide himself away from the world.

Besides, call it your optimism talking but a part of you couldn't help but feel that having Gregg around could do wonders for the two of you, especially Angus.


End file.
